


I Love Cheap Thrills

by lostnoise



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Supernatural (Stranger Things), Anal Sex, Autumn, Bad Jokes, Billy Hargrove Being Gross, Bottom Billy Hargrove, Bottom Steve Harrington, Car Sex, Carnie Billy Hargrove, Carnival, Falling In Love, Fireworks, Fluff and Smut, Fucking In Love?, Hand & Finger Kink, Inappropriate use of a corn dog, Love Confessions, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Public Sex, Rimming, Switching, Top Billy Hargrove, Top Steve Harrington, Townie Steve Harrington, a little angst at the end, fall festival
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:55:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27043876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostnoise/pseuds/lostnoise
Summary: Hawkins County is known for their fall festivals, the whole circuit of them in every town throughout the county ending with the biggest and flashiest in Hawkins proper. After getting paid to drive the Party, now in high school, around to each of them, Steve starts crushing on the hot carnie who works the Zipper.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 30
Kudos: 201
Collections: Harringrove Halloween Carnival





	I Love Cheap Thrills

**Author's Note:**

> I want to thank Anna, Cait, and Cat from our little group for being so supportive, as well as Tay who wanted to be apart of this and also gave a lot of support. Thank you to Cait for supporting the zipper line; it’s terrible and I love it. Thank you to Anna for beta reading this to make sure it wasn’t complete shit.
> 
> I’ve been going through some personal stuff recently, but this fic has been finished for what feels like weeks. This was an indulgent piece of fiction drawn off of my own home county’s carnival circuit (which happens in the summer) and my experiences at Fall Fests. I’d love to know what your experience at fall festivals were like!

Every autumn, each of the tiny towns scattered throughout Hawkins County host one of the series of fall-themed carnivals with amazing food and rides and games and different booths handing out freebies. Each festival lasts a little less than a week, starting Sunday afternoon and ending Friday evening. Hawkins proper hosts the largest one at the end of the carnival circuit, usually coinciding with Halloween, but it’s practically tradition for the residents of the whole county to visit all eight of the festivals.

Everyone goes for the food or the rides, or even the live music or the raffles.

This year, though, Steve goes for the hot carnie working the Zipper. The irony isn’t lost on him.

At first, Steve’s playing chaperone to the Party; the kids are in their freshman year of high school now, but they still need a ride from someone, and their parents send Steve $20 a head to watch the kids for the night. They had pocket money for games, food, and rides. It’s why Steve comes to the Fall Fest in Buck Creek. _At first._

The kids grab their wristbands as soon as they spill onto the grounds, but Steve holds back on buying any tickets quite yet; he doesn’t go on rides very often anymore, and he’s more interested in getting a giant bucket of caramel corn and an equally large cup of apple cider. So, he trails after them with an eye out for the best food options and groans when they line up for the Zipper.

Steve hates the Zipper. It’s scary for him, getting trapped and then flipped around in a rickety cage with Dustin screaming his head off next to him. It’s not enjoyable. He swears to himself that he’s not going on the ride.

And then he sees the ride operator.

_Fuck._

The Carnie - because he’s a goddamn carnie, just _is_ , with the tan skin and the cigarette hanging off his lips, the aviator sunglasses and dirty white shirt with the sleeves probably cut off beneath the dirty gray hoodie he wears - running the ride looks like he spent the day sweating as he set up the festival. He probably did, then knocked back a couple of beers and stationed himself at the Zipper. The guy looks pissed off, and a little grimy, and sweaty, and probably smells like stale beer and cigarette smoke. He’s kind of gross, in a way. But even the sneer and the sweat don’t take away from how _good_ the guy looks. It might even make him hotter to Steve, if he’s being honest. Because the grossness coupled with the bulge of his muscles, the perfect, golden brown curls of his hair pulled into a ponytail, the sharp cut of his jawline? Steve feels desire quickly pooling in his gut and it spikes when the guy smiles at someone flirting with him.

Steve has to turn around and find a funnel cake stall to keep himself from chubbing up in his jeans.

When he gets home that night, he can’t stop thinking about the carnie from earlier. He lays in bed, staring up at the ceiling and rubbing his hand low over his stomach. He thinks about the guy’s skin - how tan, how sweaty, the dust and dirt streaked over his arms. Steve thinks about the way his arms bulged each time he pulled the lever to start or stop the ride.

He bites at his lower lip, hand creeping down below the waistband of his boxer-briefs, and thinks about what it’d be like to get on his knees for that guy. The more he thinks, the more his mind wanders.

The guy would probably be a little rough with him. Would tug and pull at Steve’s hair, just the way Steve likes. He thinks about the way the guy’s eyes would darken as he looked down at Steve on his knees, how he’d make Steve do all the work at first. Take his dick out of his jeans - would keep his jeans on, even, probably goes fucking commando - and get the length of him all wet and ready for his mouth.

Steve pulls his hand back up and spits on it before his fingers wrap around the base of his dick. He takes a shaky breath and slips his free hand up to his mouth and pushes two fingers into his mouth the way he’d want to suck that carnie down.

Steve would go slow, at first, taking him in inch by inch, getting a feel for it, adjusting to the weight on his tongue, the thickness in his mouth. He’d let the salty taste of his sweat melt on his tongue and the musky smell surround him. He thinks the guy would let him explore to start, but then those thick fingers would slide into his hair and his hips would push forward. Would drag Steve down his dick until his nose was buried in a thick patch of pubes. He’d probably get rough with Steve, start fucking his face, take advantage of Steve’s lack of a gag reflex, make him drool and slobber and choke on him.

Steve moans around the fingers in his mouth, his hand speeding up along his own cock. It’s not slick enough but it makes him more excited, the drag of skin on skin, like the carnie is touching him with those calloused hands. His dick blurts out precum and fuck, Steve knows the guy would make him leak all over himself.

Maybe the guy would even pull Steve off his dick, make him beg for it, make Steve beg for his cum. Maybe the guy would slide his thumb in Steve’s mouth, press down on his tongue so his mouth was wide open, wet and red. Maybe the guy would stroke himself, would snap his hips forward with a groan and cum all over Steve’s tongue, Steve’s face-

Steve cries out, head slamming back into his pillow as he cums over his fist, his stomach and chest, and a couple drops even land on his chin.

He lays there, panting and staring at the ceiling, and wonders if the carnie will be at the next festival.

~

The Greenston Fall Fest happens the next week, and the kids beg and plead him to be their ride and readily cough up money to bribe him into playing chauffeur and pseudo-chaperone. So what if Steve was planning on going anyway, to see if he could find that carnie again? Maybe Steve knows he’s a little pathetic. But _maybe_ Steve doesn’t give a shit. And it helps that he gets paid to go.

He still doesn’t get any tickets and still doesn’t go on any rides, but he does grab a lemonade and plops himself on one of the picnic benches across from the Zipper while the kids queue up for the Scrambler next to it. Steve has the straw hanging out of his mouth, alternating between chewing and sucking on it, when the carnie comes strutting up with yet another cigarette.

He takes a long pull from it then flicks it off to the side, clapping the shoulder of the guy currently working the ride, before sliding into the seat. 

And, like, okay. Steve knows that the guy looks obnoxious. Knows the guy is _gross_ , and cheap, and probably a total asshole. But Steve can admit to himself that he _likes_ it.

He knows he’s staring and he takes a breath, ready to turn his face away, when the guy catches his eyes. The aviators keep Steve from really knowing that they’re looking at each other. For all Steve knows, the carnie is eyeing up some hot soccer mom floating around with her two-point-five kids, or even staring down the burger stand to his left.

Steve mouths at the straw idly, tongue fishing for it in the air, and he seals his lips around it to take a drink. He can tell by the way the carnie’s mouth drops open in response that the guy sees him. Maybe even likes what he sees. Steve pulls off the straw and licks his lips slowly, bites at his lower lip and pulls it through his teeth. He can’t help the smug grin that stretches over his mouth when the guy tips his sunglasses down and stares across the well-worn path at Steve.

The smirk sent back Steve’s way feels a lot like triumph.

“God, he could work my zipper any day,” Steve mumbles to himself, and sends the carnie a wink.

~

Madison is Steve’s least favorite town of all the circuit. 

First, Madison smells like cow shit. People usually can’t discern the smell of a fertilized field from actual cow shit, but Madison has real cow farms and it stinks to all hell. Second, Madison tries to compete with Hawkins in every aspect… but they always fall just short. When Hawkins got a big mall back in the ‘80s, Madison was quick to follow with a small strip mall that housed a total of five shops. When Hawkins built a second elementary school, Madison did too… only to close it again because they didn’t actually have a growing population to fill it. When Hawkins throws the biggest fall fest, Madison tries to make it bigger and better, but when Steve steps onto the carnival grounds, the decoration committee seems to have gone for quantity over quality. Cheap autumn leaves in varying colors, dozens of uncarved pumpkins placed haphazardly across the grounds and on top of small, dry bales of hay.

The one benefit is that Madison is also town number five on the circuit, which means he’s had the time to work out a good routine with the kids. They get their tickets and shuffle through whichever rides they want, they text to meet up for food, they all play some games, and then Steve will selectively join them for more rides to finish out the night.

For the rest of the night, he hangs around the Zipper making eyes at the hot carnie and wishing he had the balls to approach him.

Apparently, that night in Madison, Steve doesn’t have to worry about approaching anyone.

Steve has grabbed a hot chocolate and a corn dog, knowing that the combination is weird but having craved both, and seats himself close enough to the Zipper that he can stare at the single hot piece of ass at the carnival. The carnie is working the ride again, looks just as sweaty and bored and pissed off as usual, but tonight he wears a normal shirt that looks _clean_. He has his hair down, too, and Steve should find the fact that this guy has a goddamn mullet repulsive. Old fashioned. Stupid.

Instead, Steve just wants to get his fingers in the carnie’s hair and stuff his tongue down the guy’s throat.

His mouth goes dry just thinking about it, so he takes a sip of his hot chocolate and just as he’s about to start wolfing down the corn dog, the carnie looks over in his direction. He’s not wearing aviators today, full-face on display, and Steve absolutely delights in the fact that he can outright see that the carnie’s eyes are narrowed in on him. Instead of wolfing it down, Steve decides to… play with his food.

He dips one end in the little paper ramekin he filled with ketchup and holds it up to his lips. His tongue flicks out over the ketchup, swirling over the very tip of it, before Steve pushes it past his lips and into his mouth. He looks up at the carnie, feeling self-satisfied when he notes that the carnie’s attention is solely focused on Steve. Hollowing his cheeks, Steve sucks on the corn dog in a way he never thought to prior to today. He pushes more into his mouth, then pulls back, starting up a slow, suggestive rhythm before he pushes it in as deep as he can, hitting the back of his throat and swallowing past it, eyes fluttering shut, and then pulls off completely with a heaving breath.

The corn dog is ruined, all soggy and wet, but when Steve looks at the carnie with his mouth dropped open and cheeks flushed red, it’s _so_ worth the wasted money. He smiles across the path and licks the tip of it again before he takes a bite off the end, pursing his lips against a laugh when the carnie jumps.

What Steve _doesn’t_ expect is for the carnie to bark at another passing carnival employee who seems keen on following the guy’s directions (and who seems a little scared of the hot carnie) because the other employee snaps over to the Zipper and takes over operating the ride. The hot carnie smooths a hand down the front of his shirt and then saunters over to Steve’s table.

Steve drops the corn dog into the little paper boat it came in.

“Hi,” the blonde greets, his voice a deep purr that has Steve’s hair standing up in the best kind of way. He drops down onto the bench next to Steve, straddling it sideways. “I’m Billy.”

 _Billy._ A white trash king.

Steve is fucking _smitten_.

“I’m Steve,” he introduces himself, a wide smile spreading across his lips as he tilts his head to the side. Steve sucks his lower lip into his mouth and drags his teeth over it just like last time. Watches Billy’s eyes flit down to his mouth. “Are you on your break?”

“Yeah,” Billy replies, and his voice which had been a purr sounds breathy. Wanting.

“How long?” Steve’s voice goes breathy too. He _wants_ , too.

“Got an hour, pretty boy. Why?”

“Wanted to know if you had enough time.”

“Enough time for what?” Billy asks, eyes trailing down Steve’s body.

Steve licks his lips, turns so that he’s straddling the bench too, and knocks his knees against Billy’s.

“If you had enough time to… go somewhere a little more private,” Steve says, standing up and stretching pointedly. The red sweater he wore today rides up and exposes the pale cream of his belly and the dark trail of hair from his navel past the line of his jeans. “I think an hour works. You know anywhere we could go?”

Billy’s answering grin, sharp and hungry, utterly wolfish, sends a shiver down his spine. “Got just the place, pretty boy.”

 _The place_ ends up being in Billy’s lap in the back of Billy’s Camaro. The employee parking lot is out of the way and shaded by all the trees that Hawkins County is known for.

Steve isn’t complaining, not one bit. He likes hot rods, likes muscle cars and sports cars, kind of has a thing for fucking around in cars in general, too, so he squirms a little as Billy unlocks the doors and climbs into the back. He can’t complain, not when he’s got Billy’s hands down the back of his pants, down his boxer-briefs, those thick fingers sliding along his crack and rubbing little teasing circles against his hole. His mouth is full of Billy’s tongue, slick and clever as it dips into his mouth with these licks that make Steve melt and moan.

God, it’s everything he’s been thinking about since he first saw Billy over in Buck Creek.

Billy sheds his shirt and the width of his tanned chest stretching out below Steve’s hands. He’s a golden-brown color that makes Steve’s mouth water. Billy smells like sweat and oil and smoke, like danger and pleasure wrapped into one gorgeous package. A tease to all of his senses.

Steve pushes at Billy’s chest, sitting upright but careful of the little head room they actually have. He takes a few deep, panting breaths, his hazy, dark-eyed gaze lingering on Billy’s reddened mouth, though not for long since Billy attaches said mouth to Steve’s neck to lick and bite and suck at the sensitive skin there.

Steve groans loudly and tilts his head to the side to give Billy more room to work with.

“Fuck, Billy,” he gasps when Billy’s rough fingertip catches on his rim, a dry push that doesn’t quite sting and feels so good. Billy slips the hand simply kneading his ass out of Steve’s jeans to ruck up the front of his shirt, licking and sucking at pert, pink nipples until Steve is moaning mindlessly. He wants it, all of it, and wants _more_. “Fuck, um- do you have lube? And a condom?”

Billy smirks against Steve’s chest and gently bites at one nipple in a way that has Steve keening softly. Steve lets out a sharp, high-pitched noise.

“Yeah, baby, sure do,” he answers, and his words puff hot breath over the damp skin of Steve’s neck while his hands work at the front of Steve’s jeans. He spreads the fly open, reaches in and cups Steve’s dick through the fabric of his boxer-briefs. They both groan simultaneously at the sensation. “Fuck, you’re big. Next time I’ll have to get my mouth on you. Would you like that?”

Steve, honest to god, whimpers at the thought of Billy’s mouth on him. “N-next time?”

“You come to all these fairs, right?” Billy asks, tongue flicking out along his bottom lip as he palms roughly at Steve’s dick. “Been seeing you since the first one. You gonna be at the next one? Gonna let me get my mouth on you then, watch me suck you until you cum down my throat?”

“Fuck, if you’re there, I will be,” Steve admits, breath catching when Billy thumbs at the head of his cock and the rough cotton drags over the wetness there. It’s too much but emphatically not enough, and Steve rolls his hips into Billy’s hand. “Where’s your stuff?”

“Glovebox,” Billy answers gruffly, removing his hands and gesturing with his chin. “Grab it for me, sweet thing.”

Steve licks his lips and shuffles around until he’s straddling Billy’s lap and facing away, then bends forward on his hands and knees to stretch out, reaching for the glovebox. He’s just clicked it open and curls his fingers around a half-empty bottle of lube and a pack of condoms when his jeans and briefs are shoved down to his thighs to expose his ass. He glances over his shoulder, confused. “What are you-”

Billy smirks and darts down, tongue sliding along Steve’s taint and slowly, wetly up to his hole. Steve’s brows furrow, mouth dropping open on a silent moan, and he can’t handle Billy’s intense gaze, blue-blue eyes trained on his face, so he squeezes his own eyes shut. He breathes with harsh inhales, chest heaving as he tries to keep his voice down, but he can only hold onto his control for so long before he’s moaning loudly and rocking back against the slick, deft licks of Billy’s tongue.

It should be gross; it’s not like Steve cleaned himself in the thorough way one should when expecting to get rimmed. They don’t even know each other past first names. And there’s saliva dripping down the back of Steve’s balls from when Billy pulls back and spits on Steve’s quivering hole. It really should be gross, disgusting, that Billy’s got his mouth on his _ass_ , but Steve’s dick is steadily leaking and smearing precum against the center console where he’s pinned. 

“Fuck, Billy, _please_ ,” Steve moans, reaching back to thread his fingers in those pretty curls. He tugs gently and gasps at the moan that vibrates over his hole. The gasps and moans and pleas are answered by renewed vigor as Billy’s tongue pushes inside, wiggling against the walls of his entrance, and Steve’s free hand slaps down on the driver’s seat. His fingers dig into the upholstery because it’s just so damn good.

Billy pulls back after what feels like forever, his hand smacking down over Steve’s ass and grinning when Steve pushes back into the rough touch. “Gimme the lube, pretty boy.”

Steve fumbles as he hurriedly shoves his hand back. He’s eager, he knows, and he doesn’t even give a shit. He wants to feel Billy’s fingers pressing inside him, just wants to feel _Billy_ inside him. Thankfully, Billy’s prep is perfunctory - efficient and quick, Steve is slick and stretched just enough for it not to hurt. He knows it’s going to drag a little, be a bit more of a stretch from their mutual desperation, and he’s horny enough for that not to matter to him. To make it a little hotter, even, knowing he’ll feel the ghost of Billy’s cock tomorrow anytime he goes to sit down.

He hears the tear of the foil wrapper, reaches down to grab Billy’s dick when the condom is rolled on, and lines Billy up with his hole before pressing backwards. A simultaneous moan slips from both of them, mingling in the humid air of the car. The windows have started to fog up already, blocking them from the outside world to create one of their own, and Steve bites down on his lip as he shoves his hips back until Billy is seated all the way inside, as deep as he can go.

Steve might have a longer dick, but Billy is thicker, stretches him wide, and it feels so fucking _good_. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, he gives himself a moment to adjust only to pant and whine when Billy grips Steve’s hips and swivels his own in tiny circles, not moving in or out but moving and it’s overwhelming how good that feels.

“Take me so good, baby,” Billy groans, slowly pushing inside, going impossibly deeper. Maybe he feels the way Steve trembles from the sensation because a work-roughened hand passes soothingly down his spine. “Like you were made for this. Feel so good around me, Stevie.”

Steve whimpers and can’t keep his eyes open as he starts to rock back and forth to fuck himself on Billy’s dick. It feels amazing, makes him clench around Billy to savor the stretch, makes him grin when Billy lets out this choked moan from Steve tightening up around the head as he pulls off before thrusting his hips back against Billy to take his cock in again.

Soon after Steve begins his own motions, they start to move in tandem, with Billy’s hips snapping up to meet Steve’s backwards rocking. For a long while, Steve gets lost in it. In the sex, in the sensory overload, in the stretch and the ache that gets him closer and closer to the edge. He gets lost in _Billy_ , the harsh noises and groans coming from behind him, the calloused hands passing over his skin, the musky smell of their sex filling the car.

Billy’s hand moves from his hip and slides up the damp skin of his stomach to his chest, fingers dragging through the hair there, cupping his pec and tweaking his nipple. Steve shudders visibly, clenching again and pulling a gruff _“fuck”_ from Billy’s mouth. He reaches down to start stroking himself but he’s barely curled his fingers around the base of his dick before Billy pushes his hand away and that calloused palm starts to jerk him off instead.

“Let me touch you,” Billy grunts. “Wanna make you cum for me, baby.”

Steve’s head swims from the pleasure, Billy tilts his hips _just so_ , and then the head of Billy’s dick knocks against his spot over and over until his voice comes out again and again high pitched from the pleasure.

“Fuck, so close,” Steve gets out through gritted teeth, and the hand on his hip moves to tug his hair back, drawing Steve taut. A loud noise gets shoved out of his throat, like it was pulled straight from his gut by the hand pulling his hair. His hands scrabble to hold onto the seats, trying to keep his balance as Billy gets rougher, fucks him harder and faster.

“So good, so pretty for me,” Billy pants, and his thrusts grow more erratic. Steve’s suspended on the edge of orgasm, unable to even rock back into it, and the force of Billy’s hips smacking his ass has him fucking into the grip of Billy’s fist. “You gonna cum for me, pretty boy? Gonna let me see you lose it?”

“Yes, yes,” Steve chants, eyes falling shut. “Yes, please, gonna… gonna-”

All Billy does is tug at his hair again and Steve is crying out and shooting cum over strong, calloused fingers and the center console and a little onto his own chest. He’s buzzing all over, gasping for breath, vision going black for a moment as the pleasure washes over him. He barely even notices Billy behind him, hips twitching against Steve’s ass as he fills the condom. But Steve swears that he can feel the pulse of Billy’s dick inside him.

They stay like that for a long moment, getting their breath back, before Billy slaps Steve’s ass again, groaning when Steve tightens up around him, then carefully slips out. He knots the condom and tosses it to the floor, and Steve wrinkles his nose because _gross_.

But it’s so on brand for this carnie.

“You good?” Billy asks from behind him, and Steve flops a hand vaguely over his shoulder. “Because I got another twenty on my break if you wanna grab a bite to eat.”

Steve laughs softly and flops his head forward. “Yeah man. Worked up an appetite.”

Steve drags his jeans and underwear back up from where Billy had shoved them around his thighs. He finds a mostly-respectable napkin on the floor and wipes his chest down before wiping down the back of the center console where his cum drips pearly white. It’s not perfectly clean, but at least he tried. Wincing as he climbs over the console and moves with great care for his own sore thighs and ass. He lets himself out of the car, rolling his neck and shoulders, and looks back at it to finally take note of the steamed windows. Billy slips out after him and lights up a cigarette. Presses a kiss to the back of Steve’s neck, which pulls a shiver and a pleased gasp from Steve.

“You gonna come back tomorrow?” Billy asks, voice low and husky over his skin. He smells like burning tobacco and sex. Steve doesn’t know why that smell is so addictive.

“You want me to?” Steve replies to the question with his own question.

“Wouldn’t mind spending my break with you again,” the blonde says, shrugging his shoulders. “Or, y’know. Maybe time after the carnival’s done. Would give us some more time to work with, that way.”

Steve smiles and turns around, stealing Billy’s cigarette straight from between his lips, then takes a drag off of it. “I can come back tomorrow. You got a phone?”

Steve takes the cell when Billy wags it in front of Steve’s face. He enters his number, sending a text message to himself so he has Billy’s number, too, and gives it back with a smile.

Steve still hates Madison, but he can’t help but look forward to coming back tomorrow.

~

Hawkins does Fall Fest the biggest and best of the entire county. It’s the last on the circuit for a reason, boasting the most booths, live music, and even a fireworks show at the end of each night - and the biggest show on the last day.

Steve’s never been more depressed about going to the final festival before. Then again, up until this year, he never knew Billy.

Billy, the carnival worker who is hotter than sin. Who Steve meets up with every night to fuck each other’s brains out. Who has a sweet laugh, a cute smile, and a love of surfing. Billy, who’s from California and is a special brand of gross, the kind of gross that Steve finds absolutely irresistible. Billy, who has to follow the carnival back to California for the next round of carnival circuits.

It’s been four weeks since they hooked up in Madison the first time, and Steve’s come back to visit every single night. He rearranges his shifts at work so his evenings are free and spends each one with Billy. They’ve had sex pretty much everywhere they could in and around the festivals. They found an empty food trailer where Billy blew Steve until he had to stuff his fist into his mouth to keep quiet, tears in the corners of his eyes when he came, much to Billy’s amusement. Steve fucked Billy hurriedly behind a shooting game after Billy had been grinding against him all night, then slipped a dirty whisper into Steve’s ear about how he’d prepped himself before Steve got there. Billy somehow convinced Steve to ride him under the Big Slide after the carnival closed. He even blew Billy on the Ferris Wheel and made him whimper when Steve swallowed him down all the way and came back up with barely a smudge of cum on his lips which Billy licked off for him anyway.

They’re not really _dating_ so much as seeing each other, because this thing they have has a pretty solid end-date.

It’s a fling.

Steve knows that, okay?

But that knowledge still doesn’t keep him from falling for Billy.

Steve tries to spend as much time with Billy as he can in the meantime. Beyond the fucking, Steve finds that he likes Billy’s snark, likes his gruffness and confidence. Thinks he’s funny when they send each other memes when they’re not together. He takes Billy to the movies, Benny’s Diner, the quarry, even takes him to Lover’s Lake for a picnic that leaves Billy red-faced but smiling shyly and utterly pleased. Steve shows him all the good spots in Hawkins, treats him like they’re actually dating and not just fucking and having fun.

He knows that his traitorous heart is getting away from him, but he’s in no position to stop it.

The final night in Hawkins, Steve sits in his car with his fingers gripping the steering wheel tightly. He’s taking a big chance tonight. Glancing over his shoulder at the bags packed up in the back of the car, Steve stuffs down on the nerves bubbling up inside of him. Maybe Billy will reject him and Steve will have to spend the evening unpacking these bags back into his room with his heart left in pieces on the gravel path of the fairgrounds. It’s the hope that maybe, somehow, Billy will say yes that keeps him going.

He turns the car off and sends Billy a text that he’s here. It’s early enough that Billy’s probably still working, not yet on his break. Steve enters the grounds with hesitance in every step and moves on autopilot towards the Zipper.

He leans against a stall stationed near the ride. Crosses his arms over his chest. There stands Billy, wearing something nicer than usual - a dark green polo, a black leather jacket, and his best jeans, belt buckle large and on display. Steve’s eyes roam Billy’s body as he tries to memorize him standing there, tries to keep this memory alive. He doesn’t want to let all of this go. He doesn’t want to lose what they have. Great sex, yes, but actual chemistry outside of the orgasms and the flirting. They get along, they have common interests, they seemingly care about each other.

It’s horrible to think that tonight’s the last night they’ll spend together.

Billy spots him and sends him this smile that never fails to get Steve hot under the collar. He finishes loading this round of carnival-goers and then calls for one of his coworkers to take over before sauntering over to Steve.

Steve stands there, trying not to freak himself out, and gives Billy a small, nervous smile. “Can we go to your car?”

“Already getting to it, baby?” Billy laughs, slinging an arm around Steve’s shoulders. The Zipper starts up in the background and pleased and frightened screams sound through the air behind them. “You really can’t stay away from me, can you?”

“You have no clue,” Steve whispers as Billy leads them to the spot for the week.

His car sits on the edge of the field all the employees have parked in, backed up to the woods, shaded and dark and perfect for them to be alone. Billy leans back on the hood and draws Steve in to stand between his legs. Steve looks down at Billy and tries to commit his face to memory. The color of his eyes, the lines around them, the curve of his lips around his smile.

“What’s got that look on your face, Stevie?” Billy asks, cocking his head to the side.

Steve wants to run his hands through the long curls cascading around Billy’s face, so he does, because this might be his last time. “I need to tell you something,” he confesses, leaning in to brush his lips softly over Billy’s temple. “And tonight’s the last night of the carnival circuit in Hawkins County.”

“So… what is it?” Billy asks, and Steve stifles a short laugh.

The butterflies in his stomach flare up and make Steve almost too nervous to admit to what he needs to say. The words are on the tip of his tongue when Billy apparently can’t stand the silence anymore and asks, “Are you breaking up with me, you fucking dickhead?”

Steve pulls back, absolutely aghast at the accusation. “No, you absolute _douche_ , I’m in love with you!”

The silence that follows Steve’s words makes him glance away angrily. That’s not how he’d wanted to tell Billy. He’d had it planned out, the perfect way to let Billy know, to convince Billy to give them a try-

“I’m in love with you too,” comes a small voice from in front of him, and when Steve looks back to Billy, the blonde’s expression is so vulnerable that Steve can’t help but wrap his arms around Billy’s shoulders.

“You are?”

“Yes,” Billy nods, pressing his face into Steve’s chest.

His heart beats double time at the knowledge that Billy _loves him_.

“Let me run away with you,” he pleads, hands slipping from Billy’s shoulders up to cup Billy’s cheeks. Tilting Billy’s chin up, Steve urges Billy to look at him. “I’ll follow you anywhere. I know you leave tomorrow and I don’t want- I can’t let you leave by yourself. I won’t let you leave me.”

“You’d come with me?” His blue eyes, when Billy looks up at Steve, are full of wonder.

“Yes,” Steve affirms, nodding furiously. He leans in to press a kiss hard to Billy’s plush lips. “Yes, Billy, I’d follow you anywhere. Everywhere.”

“You’d leave with me in the morning?”

“My bags are already packed.” Steve sheepishly rubs at the back of his neck, his other hand moving down to hold the side of Billy’s neck possessively. “We can sell my car and get some extra money. I’ll do whatever to make it work. I just want to be with you, Billy.”

Billy surges up to kiss Steve and wraps his limbs around the tall brunette, arms grabbing and pulling him flush against his chest before Billy lays down against the hood.

The fireworks start going off ten minutes later, when Steve has Billy’s jeans and briefs down around one ankle, when Steve has Billy spread out over the hood of the Camaro with that polo pushed up above hard, pink nipples straining in the cool night air, when Steve is fucking into Billy hard and purposeful, when Steve forces cries of pleasure and grunts and pleads of _more_ and _harder_ and _fuck yes, please, Steve, please…_

The kaleidoscope of color in the sky matches the explosion of pleasure behind his eyelids when he cums, shoving his hips inside the other man, stilling when he slumps forward and smears the mess of Billy’s cum over both their stomachs. Steve is breathing hard, feeling overwhelmed, and Billy reaches up to grab at his hair and drag him into a deep kiss. He moans and licks back at Billy’s mouth, wrung out and tired and so fucking in love with a man he’s only known for a few weeks.

“Tie off the condom and give me fifteen minutes for a cigarette and some water,” Billy pants, shoving the hand he’d had in Steve’s hair, the one not covered in his own cum, through his own hair to push the rowdy, sweat-damp curls out of his eyes.

“And then what?”

“Then I’m gonna blow you slow and deep until you beg me to let you cum,” Billy grins, flicking his tongue out over the sharp grin he levels at Steve. “Might even make you cry again.”

Steve just smirks back and rocks his hips inside Billy, hissing softly from the oversensitivity but reveling in the moan punched out of Billy’s chest.

“We’ll see who begs first.”

“You’re on.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed, consider leaving a kudo and a comment! They brighten my day.
> 
> There may be a second chapter (not a continuation, but more of an extended scene) coming in the future so keep your eyes out.


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